#w.blurbs

It starts when you wake up that morning without Natasha. The disappointed feeling in your chest is sharper than usual, but it’s tempered by rolling over and nuzzling your face in Natasha’s pillow until Ana comes to coax you out of bed.

As the day goes on, you start to feel more acutely aware of everything. The sofa feels too rough against your bare skin, the sound of Ana calling your name feels too loud.You move away whenever when of the girls try to touch you, giving Daria a half-hearted grumpy kick when she gets too close.

You make your way back to the bedroom, plopping back down on Natasha’s pillow with a soft sigh. The bed feels too open, too lonely. It starts an itch in the back of your gums that you try to ignore, but after a few minutes you drag Natasha’s pillow to the center of the bed then look around the room.

The stuffed animals in your kennel are soft, but they don’t smell like Natasha so you leave them. You yank down the heavy, fur coat Natasha wore yesterday, dragging it out of the closet. It keeps catching under your knees and for a moment you stop to shake the garment in your mouth viciously in anger.

Getting the damn thing up the stairs by Natasha’s bed proves to be just as aggravating. As your neck strains with the weight you let out a muffled whine. Natasha would help if she was here, Natasha makes everything easy when she’s around.

A gnawing feeling grows in your chest as you pull the hamper down to spill your owner’s clothes onto the floor. The not soft clothes get shoved roughly aside, while you pile the softest ones by your side. Glancing at her bathrobe produces only a moment of hesitation before you’re wrestling it down from the back of the door.

By the time you’ve dragged all of the clothes up the stairs and rearranged them into a makeshift nest on the bed, a light sheen of sweat covers your body. Surrounded by Natasha’s scent, you rub your thighs together unconsciously. Your mind conjures images of Natasha kissing your damp skin, filling you to the brim and whispering filth into your ear.

You bite into the pillow below you, hips rocking as you shudder, needy whines echoing out into the hallway.

Natasha gets a text from one of the maids and comes home early. You’ve had heats a day or so sooner than expected, but a whole week is highly unusual. She’ll have to make an appointment to get a diagnostic on the chip in the back of your neck to see what caused such an irregularity.

You don’t show any signs of hearing her when she comes in and locks the door. The distressed whimpers and pants set off a twinge of guilt in her chest. She reaches out for you on instinct, fingers brushing your bare shoulder. Startled, you whip your head around. Your teeth close around her wrist with a force she didn’t know you possessed.

“Hey, puppy. It’s me, you’re okay.” Your eyes are unfocused, skin sticky and hair damp. God, she can smell you from here. “I’m right here, sweetheart.” Natasha slowly sits on the side of the bed and a rumble vibrates against her wrist. She runs a careful hand down your spine. A full body shiver wracks your body and you let go of her with a keening whine, squeezing your eyes shut, hands fisted in the comforter below.

Natasha scoots over the wall of your nest, pulling you into her lap. She’s warm, familiar, and you need her. Natasha lets you knock her back — pillow and clothes going with her —  so she can fumble a searching hand around in the nightstand drawer.

She can feel the heat of your core against her thigh as you grind messily against her, nipping with increasing force at her collarbone. Natasha’s fingers bump against the swell of the toy she’s come to use for exactly this purpose.

The flurry of movement catches you off guard and you find yourself blinking up at the ceiling for a few moments, clouded mind trying to process what just happened as Natasha yanks at her jeans. She has to step off the bed to slide the straps up her legs, shushing your panicked whine when she moves away from you.

The second she’s sure the harness is secure around her waist, she’s bearing down on you, kissing you with so much force your head spins as she slides the toy against your wet cunt. Her fingers pinch at your nipples and you cry out into her mouth, hips twitching. You plant your feet against the bed, rocking up mindlessly. Natasha rips her mouth from yours with a groan as your slick smears across her stomach.

Bringing her hand down, she guides the toy into you. It sinks into you with almost no resistance until the swell of the knot bumps against you. You’re practically delirious in this state, panting and digging half moons into Natasha’s back with your nails.

You come embarrassingly quickly, heat searing you down to your toes. It feels like every nerve in your body is alight and a wail comes out of your dry throat. Natasha’s relentless; sitting up on her knees to hold your hips at a better angle to grind her knot into you, even as you’re still reeling.

You stretch easier around her from your first orgasm. Natasha spreads the lips of your cunt with her thumbs, watching intently as she gradually works the knot deeper.

The widest part of the knot has always been a struggle for you, even as wet as you are now. Natasha’s hand caresses your thigh, cooing praise. Though you can’t quite make out what she’s saying, you know how this goes.

You do your best to stay relaxed as Natasha pushes carefully, pulling back when the muscles in your stomach jump.

“You’re doing so good, puppy, letting mommy fuck you like this.”

This time she pulls you into her, pressing against you until you arch into her and you come again, just as intensely as the first time. You spasm around the whole of the knot, Natasha falling forward to let you grab at her shoulders to anchor yourself.

The fuzziness in your head slowly lifts and Natasha presses a kiss to your forehead as some semblance of coherence shoes in your eyes. “Hi there, babygirl.”

Natasha’s other foot nudges at your ribs as she continues talking. You let out an annoyed yap, rabbit kicking it away.

Despite your best efforts, the shoelace stays firm, even when you roll onto all fours and give a sharp yank. You crawl to Natasha’s side, kneeling up to paw at her over the armrest.

At the lack of an immediate response, you make a move to heave yourself over the armrest, unfeasible as the idea was. Natasha’s hand quickly slips under your collar and pulls you back into a sitting position.

She carries on her conversation with Steve as you glower up at her.

You glance back and forth behind the two for a few moments then leap at Natasha, tackling her legs with enough force that when her knee hits the table, the whole thing shakes.

Natasha curses, looking down.

You glare back.

“Bed. Now.”

She holds your stare until you huff and plop down into your bed, angrily yanking at its plush side.

“Stop it. You can stay there until we’re done.”

It doesn’t take long before your sour mood fades and you’re staring a hole into the back of Natasha’s head. Carol scoffs at the forlorn look in your eyes.

You whine softly. Natasha sighs, scooting her chair back and patting her lap. You scramble over, letting her haul you into her lap.

You perk up at the familiar sound of upbeat music and the iPad is snapped into place against the wall.

“No. No bouncing.” She warns when you start mimicking the fruit dancing across the screen. “Stay.”

The hair and nail trim goes by almost too quickly for your liking. The groomer waves a toy in your face as a distraction while the iPad is switched off, the stuffed bear squeaking in your mouth as she walks you back to the kennel area.

You gnaw at the ear, growling softly as you tug at it. It’s tougher than the last toy though and you switch to a leg instead, wrenching it back and forth.

By the time Natasha arrives the bear is still intact, despite your best efforts. You don’t get to stick your head out the window on the ride home, but you lay your head on the console and nuzzle your way under Natasha’s hand.

The party is a big affair; Steve, Carol and the girls bring a mountain of gifts. Agatha sends bunny over with the maid from her house, who lets everyone know they both have a strict curfew. Kate and Honey are already bouncing off the walls when they come in with their Natasha. They throw their arms around your neck and it feels like you could combust with joy.

You introduce them to bunny and Honey’s immediately smitten, playing with her hair and patting her on the head. Kate’s not impressed, picking up a long stick to poke at her with. You grab it in your mouth, gently tugging to redirect Kate.

In true Kate fashion, she takes it as a challenge, pulling back on it. It grinds against your teeth and you let go, sending her sprawling. Kate springs back up and you dive behind Carol.

She chases you around the yard until her Natasha puts a stop to it when she gets in a good whack on your head. While Kate’s getting scolded you snatch up the stick.

Spotting Honey and bunny inside the house, you scamper over to show them your prize.

“Be careful.” Steve warns. The stick bumps against the sides of the doorway. As you push, the stick starts to bend back.

“No, puppy. No sticks inside.” You whine at your Natasha standing over you. “Give.” She holds a hand out. You acquiesce with a grumble, swatting at her leg.

By the time the sun starts to set, only a few guests are still at the house. Bunny is the next to leave. Honey toddles over to give her a loud kiss on the forehead and Kate pats bunny’s back. You bump against her shoulder, rubbing your cheek against hers.

Kate clambers onto the couch, loudly demanding a movie. “Manners, Katie.” Her Natasha scolds.

After some arguing, Kate and Honey settle on Toy Story. You climb into Natasha’s lap, snuggling back against her.

“Sit pretty.” Resting back on your heels, you bring your arms up, bending them at the wrists. “Good girl. Catch.”

You snap at the bit of apple, but it bounces onto the carpet. Daria puts her leg out to stop you from eating it off the floor. “Sorry. Here.” She holds out another.

Sitting, you look at her expectantly. Daria hums, scanning the plate. “Try this.”

You bite into it, then immediately reel back with an audible sound of disgust, spitting the lemon out. Daria’s holding in her laugh, trying not to disturb Natasha.

You drag your tongue against the side of the couch to try and get the lingering flavor out of your mouth.

“Hey! Don’t do that.” She hisses under her breath.

The taste is still sharp on your tongue; the couch clearly wasn’t made for the job. One of Natasha’s legs rests on the floor and you lick at the expensive material.

There’s an incoherent mumble then an annoyed, “Get her some water or something.” A limp hand bats at the crown of your head. “Quit it.”

“Did she ever pull? Have you had to use a choke collar with her before? I know Agatha used a shock with hers sometimes. I don’t want to do that with mine.”

“It’s all personal preference, honestly. If you get one untrained they could respond poorly to a number of things and figuring them out can take a lot of time.” Natasha gives you a reprimanding squeeze to the back of the neck when you start trying to catch her fingers in your mouth. “I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re sure you want to put the work in.”

Natasha can see the quiet yearning in Bucky’s eyes. He’s been alone a long, long time and he’s getting tired. “Are they all like that?” He gestures. “That sweet?”

“They can be.” Natasha says softly. “They need patience and understanding if you want them to love you to their fullest potential. You shouldn’t halfass this if you really want one, Bucky.”

“I know. I won’t.” He hesitates. “Can I?”

“Of course.” Natasha unclips your lead, patting you on the side. “Go say hi, puppy.”

Bucky squats down, outstretching a hand. You’ve seen him in Natasha’s proximity enough to know he’s safe. You take his gloved fingers in your mouth, shaking your head with a rumble.

Bucky chuckles. “I haven’t seen her do that before.”

“It’s a new thing.” Natasha shrugs.

His fingers feel...different. You move up and close your mouth around his palm. There’s no give to it. Bucky pulls his glove off and you blink. “You’ve never seen a fake arm?” He wiggles his fingers in front of your face.

Curious, you nose insistently at his sleeve until he gets the hint, rolling it up. “You know I’ve never realized — okay that’s enough.” He says when you brace your feet and yank at his wrist.

“Drop it.”

You start to rise to all fours, but the sudden air rushing under the blanket draped over your body has you sinking back down into your cushioned bed reluctantly.

Even though Natasha’s replies to everyone at the table are succinct, no one seems to care. Most of them look like they’re on the verge of passing out. The only one that seems remotely awake and absorbing any information is Steve.

You spend a minute or so trying to find a way to adjust the blanket around you before you go to the Natasha, but after tripping a few times you give up and instead start slowly inching out from your bed to adjust to the temperature.

Carol stops in the middle of her sentence to chuckle at you slumped halfway onto the carpet and everyone else follows suit.

When you make it to Natasha, you sit up on your knees, nudging her insistently.

“No, sweetheart. Wait.” She chides, not looking away from her papers.

Glancing at out the window again, you crawl under the table.

Natasha feels your jaw close around her ankle carefully and your displeased, grumpy growl against her skin.

Leaning down, she slips a hand into your hair, establishing a grip firm enough to make her point, but not painful. She tugs you up and you get a sound whack on the top of the head with a pen.

“No.”

Used to your usual behavior, the rest of the table continues talking among themselves.

There’s a barely audible whine and you’re leaning up again. Natasha acquiesces, scooting her chair back and helping you into her lap. She waits while you fuss and try to find how you want to settle down. Eventually, you decide you want to be cradled on your back.

Natasha sighs. “I guess she might need to sleep off whatever it is, but if she’s not better by tomorrow she’s going to the vet.”

“Why is everything full of candy wrappers?” Mischa walks up with nearly two shredded handfuls of them.

You slink quietly under the table.

“In the sofa cushions, under the sofa, I found three of them in my shoes.”

Natasha looks down, but you’re gone.

“Puppy, come here.”

“Puppy.”

You crawl out slowly, collapsing with a loud howl and going still.

“Are you done?”

You give her your most pitiful look.

“You’re not in trouble, now stop that.” Natasha crouches down by your head, putting a hand on your full stomach. “No wonder you feel sick.” She mutters as you bat your eyelashes at her.

“You need to take medicine okay?”

Natasha raises her brows when you begin to sigh. You opt to lie your head prettily on her knee. “Oh, are you suddenly all better?”

“There’s literally half-chewed chocolate in one of my shoes.” Mischa complains.

You catch the edge of Wanda's peacoat, hard enough that the whole thing sways again and when you grab at the sleeve of another, the whole thing starts coming down.

You’re not quite fast enough and a few of the coats fall heavily onto your back while the coat rack itself thumps to the ground.

Natasha reappears in an instant, tossing her notepad onto the desk. “Bad girl.” She scolds, pulling the coat rack back up. “Bed. Now.” She points over to the wall and you whine softly. “Now.”

You drop down into the bed with a huff, watching as Natasha leaves again. Turning to face the wall, you burrow your face into the fabric.

A few minutes later, Natasha approaches the room again. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.”

There’s a pause in her steps then gentle fingers stroke your back. “Hey, puppy. You okay?”

The sullen look you give her out of the corner of your eye is enough of an answer.

“You’re okay, c’mere, baby.” She pulls you into her lap, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Hey…you’re a good girl, okay? You’re just a bit of a handful sometimes.”

Natasha pecks you on the lips. “You wanna steal a snack from Carol? She’s having pancakes.”

Perking up at the mention of a food, you readjust yourself in the position Natasha likes to carry you in.